


Alive

by anonniemoose



Series: Good Omens Fics [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Immortality, Cancer treatment, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, Other, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), beelzebub tries but isnt the best partner at times, but its human its natural, cancer fic, goes into detail about what happens to the body after death, im gonna tag later bc idk what to tag tbh, is sad but also happy, not disgustingly tho just like, reader dies but not really, sorta - Freeform, they're working on it, this is happening rn because you are dead, was all just a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 00:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonniemoose/pseuds/anonniemoose
Summary: Beelzebub doesn’t get it. Cancer is not a cold, it’s not temporary, this thing will kill you. But they don’t seem to care and even when you fight to stay alive, it’s not until a certain angel intervenes that they realise what they’ve already lost.





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

> So, you can blame my friend for this one. She brought it up, it's been nagging me for about a week now, so I wrote it. I am doing Kinktober this year (this ain't for Kinktober) so I'm hoping to be a bit more active on the Good Omens fanfic area and on here so....look forward to it? I guess?
> 
> My tumblr is now the-ineffable-prince-of-hells because Beelzebub has taken over my life. If you want to come chat, feel free, my requests are closed for now but I have headcanons over there for GO that I haven't posted here so. Yeah. Feel free to delve in.

You were alone when you got told that you needed to go in for further testing, alone when you went for the scans, alone when you got the results. You kept everything hush hush, not wanting any drama or to raise concern when it could be a false positive.

But it wasn’t.

Cancer. Brain cancer. Glioblastoma multiforme to be exact. Pretty advance, the doctors gave you a realistic prognosis of six months, and a hopeful prognosis of twelve months at most. You didn’t cry when you got the news, didn’t cry on the way home, didn’t cry as you cooked and ate dinner alone. You held it in, waiting until the quiet of the night took over and you knew you were truly alone and that’s when the sobs became to rack your body.

You were too young! How could you be given a prognosis of twelve months, at best, at your age? You knew you were going to die one day, but you expected quite a few more decades before it happened.

You didn’t sleep that night, spent most of your time crying and trying to figure out what was going to happen next. You had to tell people, had to plan what was going to happen when eventually treatment stopped working, what you wanted once you died.

You have to tell B.

Being in a relationship with Beelzebub has been hard, but worth it. Some emotions were clear on their face, anger, annoyance, frustration, but others were not, such as love. You knew B loved you, they wouldn’t have spent time with you if they didn’t like you or put up with your human tendencies if they thought you to be beneath them, but sometimes it was hard to gauge if they truly loved you. It was always hard to bring news to them because their emotional reaction would always be a little….off. This was something that you weren’t looking forward to telling your partner.

You told your partner about the doctor’s visit the next morning. Beelzebub always made sure that they had the mornings with you seeing that their nights were rarely free. For the first time ever, you really had hoped that some unexpected hellish business had kept B away from you that morning, you still hadn’t processed the news. Still hadn’t accepted your fate. And even though it was hard, you managed to get the words out.

No reaction.

That’s what hurt you most of all, you think. Beelzebub didn’t even seem to care. Out of all the emotions you could read on Beelzebub’s face, none seem to pass them. You got the tests alone, the results alone, the prognosis alone. But telling B and explaining what the doctors had said? Made you feel the most alone you felt during the entire process.

You started on chemo and radiation, wanting to prolong your life as long as possible. You spoke to Aziraphale about life after death for humans and his answers, although philosophical, did nothing to ease your mind into thinking there was an afterlife for humans where you could continue to be with Beelzebub, if that is what they wanted. B was there every morning to help you with your medication and the subsequent nausea and vomiting that followed. They once asked why you were doing this and appeared confused when you told them it was to length your life. Surely you didn’t want to go through all this torture just for a few more measly months? But still, they continued to help where they could. You asked for them to take time away from hell to be with you, but they refused. You would still be there in the morning, why disrupt business as usual?

You continued to waste away. You become frail and unable to move without assistance. Aziraphale and Crowley are literal God sends during this time. Crowley would always hiss and say he’d talk to the love of your life, but you always asked him not to. It’ll be fine. Beelzebub knows that you’re sick and, they’re right. Why disrupt business as usual for one, insignificant human? Eventually, however, even Beelzebub could see how ill you had become, nothing but skin and bone, being wasted away from the sickness.

Then the seizures started.

The first one was a shock. You were so angry at Beelzebub not being able to understand that you wouldn’t just bounce back from this. No matter how many times you tried to explain it, they just didn’t seem to get it. Suddenly, all the anger of being sick and dying way before your prime and before you could enjoy a long like with the Prince of Hell just exploded from you. You screamed and raved about how this wasn’t a cold or the flu, this was serious. You asked them if they even loved you because it feels like they don’t, you need them right now and they are not there for you. When Beelzebub asked why you were so upset about this when you would just wake up in the morning, healthy as ever, you wanted to scream. Instead, you fried.

You collapsed on the floor as your brain began to overheat, body jerking uncontrollably. For the first time ever, Beelzebub felt out of control. No demonic miracle they tried got you to stop so they decided that, for once, they’d ask for a human’s help. They got you to A&E where you were instantly admitted into the hospital before into a room once they got the seizure under control. Quickly, it was decided that you needed to stay at the hospital and you weren’t going to be able to leave. Beelzebub didn’t leave your side once you were admitted, only once to go back to your place and get some things to make the barren walls seem more like home.

You barely made it to the five-month mark. Towards the end, there was nothing of you left. Seizures continued. They were quick to strike and intermittent. Some lasted for a few moments, most lasted for at least 10 minutes, and some very rare ones lasted for over an hour. They were horrid, your brain felt like it was being fried every single time as B just sat with you. But, as time went on, they became more regular and prolonged. You struggled to maintain your breathing after four days in hospital. It was decided that your airway would remain unassisted. The rattle of your throat unnerved Beelzebub, but they stayed regardless, their hand never leaving yours. They stayed in the room, even when you were being washed but did not assist. The nurses looked unnerved enough at the Prince of Hell’s attire and lack of desire to leave your room or even eat. They played your favourite music and read to you, spoke about things down in hell that was being managed for them. It was as if it was a rare night where Beelzebub could actually take the time to spend with you and you alone. Aziraphale and Crowley visited often, spoke to you as you continued to apparently dream and made sure Beelzebub was ok and asked if they needed a break. They always said no. They’d rather watch you sleep. You looked peaceful when you were like this and Beelzebub could almost convince themselves that you were snoring whenever the rattle could be heard.

It was a rainy Sunday morning when you died. Beelzebub was holding your hand and reading to you a book you never got to finish. When B got to the end of the last page, they could almost hear you sigh as you breathed in, and out, and in, and out, and in, and out.

Nothing.

With a smile, Beelzebub closed the book and put it to the side and waited, hand on yours as it had been the entire time. Seconds pass and concern started to bubble under Beelzebub’s skin. Usually with discorporation, it was instant. You’d be here with a new body and ready to live a new life. Seconds turned to minutes as your body started to cool and Beelzebub’s concern grows to anxiety as they move up towards your body. You should be back by now. The rattling that was once concerning would have been a relief to hear right now. They call your name, beg you to wake up because this isn’t funny anymore as they climb onto the bed, careful of all the wires and tubes so they can try to convince you to just _wake up_. Even if it was just to scream at you some more, they didn’t mind, they just wanted you to stop pretending and to get out of bed.

That’s how Aziraphale and Crowley found the Prince of Hell. Sitting over your rapidly hardening body as rigor mortis kicked in, confused as to why your eyes were open, yet glassy. They were still begging you to wake up, this isn’t funny anymore, I know you’re mad at me but please just wake up. Neither had heard Beelzebub sound so desperate and confused before, and it had been clear that they had been doing this for hours. Aziraphale is the one who puts two and two together and walks up to the demon.

Crowley goes to get the nurse. You wouldn’t want to be lying there in your own filth, you deserved a more dignified death than that as Aziraphale quickly but quietly got Beelzebub off of your body and off the bed so the nurse could do their jobs in peace. B still looked at your corpse confused, now pale as the blood settles on the lower half of your body. You’d never looked so sick in your life, but this isn’t right. You should be awake by now.

That’s when Aziraphale breaks it to him. Humans, when they die, they aren’t like demons or angels. When they die, they are gone for good. Its like a sleep, apparently, that lasts forever unless you were in good favour with God. And being with a demon most definitely removed your changes of that.

The news takes a second to sink into Beelzebub’s brain before everything starts making sense. Why you wanted them to spend more time with you, the frustration of when they refused to break their schedule for you, and when they just didn’t seem to understand that this was serious and terrifying for you. Discorporation is scary for anyone who hadn’t experienced it. But you’d be back. Surely.

It’s not until the nurses arrive to clean your body that Beelzebub moves. The nurse goes to start with your face and the Prince of Hell just screams as emotions they didn’t even know they had crashed over them. They screamed at them to not touch you, that you weren’t dead and you’ll be ok, just wake up, please wake up. They are sorry, just please, for the love of all things unholy, open your fucking eyes. Nurses, doctors and security had to rush in to pull the Prince from your body as the nurses fought back to make sure you weren’t injured in the fight. Beelzebub claws at everyone who touches them, almost attempting to swim past everyone to get to you as they are thrown out and into the family room with a nurse to try and console them. You’re in a better place now, God will take care of you, you are at peace. Beelzebub just rocks and cries because of all the things they will miss that they didn’t even realise that they would miss. Seeing you wake up and being groggy before lighting up when you see them, holding your hand, kissing you, making a plate for them even though you both know full well that you’ll end up snatching most of it from their plate. Never have you listen to them rant and offer advice that only a human could provide or listen to you rant after a particularly hard day. Never see your face whenever you see something that excites you, never hear your laugh, never be held in your arms or hold you in theirs ever again? Never be able to tell you that they love you.

It felt like all the oxygen had left Beelzebub’s body and no matter what they did, they couldn’t get enough in their lungs. They never told you that they loved you, they always assumed they had time for that. Now they’d never get that chance again. Darkness seems to crowd in from the corner of their eyes as a truly desperate and primal wail finally makes its way out of B’s mouth and fills the halls of the ward before they promptly pass out.

~~~~~

Beelzebub wakes up with a gasp. Not in the hospital, the chemical smell no longer burning their nose. They are back home, in your bed. The demon rubs their face with a relieved smile before they turn to make sure you were alright.

No.

You’re not there.

The sheets are cool and there is no evidence of you sleeping there. Beelzebub can feel the oxygen slowly being sucked out of their body again when the panic sets in again. Are you dead? What’s happened?

A flush followed by three loud crashes and a string of swears in the dark lets them know what’s going on and they rush from the bed straight into the kitchen to see you, still pale and looking permanently tired, but _alive_ standing in front of them, checking over your foot. B can’t help it. They crash right into your arms and hold you as close as physically possible, breathing in your scent deeply to centre themselves. It’s ok. You’re alive.

“Whoa, hey there.” B could hear the smile in your voice. “You ok?” Beelzebub doesn’t trust their voice, so they just nod. “B? Are you crying?” The smile turns to concern as the Prince pulls you in closer. You start to rub their back as you sway in the kitchen. “The dream again?”

“Yes.” Their voice croaks, they sound broken. Exhausted. You sigh as you pull back and make sure that you can make eye contact with your partner. The unshed tears that they are clearly fighting back break your heart as you swipe your thumb underneath their eyes as you cup their face in a silent attempt to calm them.

“It’s ok dearest. I’m ok. You’re ok. Do you remember what happened?” It takes a second for Beelzebub to nod as the memories come flooding back.

You _did_ have an argument and you did have a seizure before it concluded. Beelzebub did think that you would just return in a new body ready to go. But Beelzebub got you to the hospital quicker. You came out of the seizure quicker. You ended up in a coma and in the hospital for a week. B didn’t leave the hospital for that entire time and they did read to you and play music and talk. That’s when Aziraphale told Beelzebub what happens to humans after death. That’s when the penny dropped and, for the first time in a week, Beelzebub stepped outside.

Beelzebub got on their knees and begged for God to spare you, just for a while longer. A miraculous healing, that’s all you needed. No matter how much Beelzebub tried, no miracle of theirs could save you and God did not help in anyway. When Beelzebub came back, a day later, your prognosis did not look good. They took you off air support. They suspected you had 48 hours at most. That dreaded rattle could be heard before B could even walk in the room.

Aziraphale suggested that, perhaps, between the three of them they could save you. Somehow, it worked. The cancer was gone, and you woke up to a crying and relieved Beelzebub six hours later, to the amazement to all the staff involved. B just climbed onto the bed and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you, apologising between each kiss and saying that they loved you, so, so much whenever you both pulled away for long enough for them to get the words out. You were still incredibly sick, even a year on there have been complications. It took a while for you to be able to walk without assistance, for your weight to return and for you to be able to concentrate for a full hour – or even just be conscious for three hours – and not need a nap. You came home six months after you first were admitted into the hospital. Beelzebub made a point, from then on, to be home as often as possible. Hellish business could be conducted anywhere, so B worked from home in the same office you now do. Beelzebub, although still not in tune with their emotions, had become more affectionate and initiated the affection more often than before. The Prince even began to learn the value of sleep and loved to spend the night with you holding each other.

The nightmares came about a month after you came home. You needed to spend the night at the hospital after you found out you needed some exploratory surgery done. Beelzebub woke up with a fright, convinced you were dead until they went to go pick you up the next morning. If you disappeared from the bed for too long, the nightmares would start up again. A side effect of the cancer has left you forgetful, and some nights when you wake up and just need to pee or eat or drink something, you forget that being away caused Beelzebub distress like this. But you work on it.

Another side effect, as you both found out one day that Beelzebub is sure nearly brought them to discorporate, is that you can’t die. Turns out, the angel and the demons did their job a little _too _well. Although you have gotten better and parts of you have changed, you haven’t aged a day. When you didn’t see where you were walking and got hit by a car, Beelzebub felt their world end again for a brief second before you stood up, amazingly unharmed, and began to apologise to the driver for not watching where you were going. The relief hit Beelzebub hard, before realising that you were going to be with them forever. The joy that wracked their system is something that Beelzebub has not felt since but enjoyed every moment of it.

Right now, however, Beelzebub did not feel joy. Some relief, yes, but mostly residue panic from the constant nightmare that they had been having. Somehow, you managed to coax them onto the bed and pulled them in tight against you so they could have some comfort.

“Feel better?” B makes an uncommitted noise that you take to mean as ‘yes’. “Good. I’m sorry I forgot again. I’ll try to remember to read the sticky notes next time.” You can feel their scoff against your chest as you roll your eyes. “I love you though. I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

“Please don’t.” Their voice still sounds broken but comforted in the knowledge that you were okay.

“I won’t, precious.” You smile as they make eye contact with you and a rare smile graces their face.

“I’m sorry I was a bad partner.” You roll your eyes.

“B, you weren’t a bad partner, you just didn’t understand, and I didn’t think to explain it at the time. It’s okay. We’ve worked past it.” The noise B makes this time makes you think they don’t believe you, so you jostle them slightly so you can both lay down together, you stroking their back as they make small buzzing noises of content, both of you slowly beginning to drift away.

“Love you.” You smile as B’s quiet voice fills your ears right before they fall asleep.

“Love you too.” B’s hum lets you know they heard it just as you close your eyes and let your sleep take you away.

You were alone when you had the tests, got the results, and the prognosis. You felt alone as you battled for a few months more to live with your love. You drifted alone in a dream state for a week before two demons and an angel brought you back, better than before. After a journey of feeling so alone, it was moments like these that made you feel so loved because you knew Beelzebub loved you, loves you and will forever love you, as you will forever love them. Even as you drift in your sea of unconsciousness, there is one thing that you feel now that you hadn’t felt for a long time after your diagnosis.

Alive.


End file.
